


Collaboration

by Robin Hood (kjack89), tobeconspicuous



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Music, Classical Music, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, M/M, Musicians, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Punk Rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/pseuds/tobeconspicuous
Summary: Rafael Barba is a world-famous classical pianist forced to work with the punk rock band Secret Vicious Unknown, and especially their guitarist/lyricist Sonny Carisi, on a collaboration for Hudson Concert Hall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was the result of our joint desire for more ~~crack-tastic~~ AUs in this fandom. It's our first co-written story, so any constructive criticism is absolutely welcomed. 
> 
> Our initial outline predicts this will be 6 chapters long. The reality is anyone's guess. Hoping to update once weekly.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Robin Hood (kjack89) maintains that all mistakes are hers and hers alone, while tobeconspicuous insists they're hers; the truth is likely somewhere in the middle. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

**London Concert Stops Short  
****_Melinda Warner - Classist News_**  

_Rafael Barba, world-renowned classical pianist, cut his run of London concerts short after he noticed audience member recording his performance. Reports state that when Mr. Barba noticed the audience member recording, he stopped playing and asked the member to put the device away. When the audience member refused to comply Mr. Barba announced the concert to be over and left the stage in annoyance to many of his fans. Neither Mr. Barba nor a representative has been available for comment._

 

 **Excerpt from “Secret Vicious is Anything But Unknown”  
****_Declan Murphy - Rolling Stone Magazine_**  

_Proving that the punk rock scene is still strong, Secret Vicious Unknown, or SVU to its fans, ends its European Tour in London with a bang. As the lights lowered electricity was felt throughout the stadium… Drummer Amanda Rollins’ sticks seem to fly through the air, her arms indiscernible… Bassist Nick Amaro’s dark rifts complement guitarist and lyricist Sonny Carisi’s dark melodies… When frontman Mike Dodds led the band through its final crescendo the entire stadium was in awe..._

 

 **Director Alexandra Cabot Looks to a New Future  
****_George Huang - Classist News_**  

_Hudson Music Hall’s recently appointed Director Alexandra Cabot is looking to make classical music more accessible to Hudson's students and the general public. With pianist Rafael Barba returning to headline this season's program and rumors of production company Benson & Tutuola becoming involved this reporter has to wonder if Ms. Cabot has bitten off more than she can chew. More to come as new developments unfold. _

 

* * *

 

It was bitterly cold the morning Rafael Barba walked into his studio at Hudson Concert Hall. The London concerts had been an absolute nightmare as he was forced to play the same dull pieces and they refused to let him play a single one of his original pieces. When he saw the man in the audience, his iPad over his face blatantly recording Rafael's performance, the pianist had lost his patience. He had asked the audience member to stop recording and when that failed had asked security to remove them. When security failed, he completed the piece he was playing, apologized to the audience and walked out. The screeching phone call the next day from his manager hadn’t been surprising, but the flyer someone had left on his piano certainly was.  

_Secret Vicious Unknown featuring Rafael Barba and the Hudson Concert Orchestra_

Less than a minute later Rafael had his manager on the phone. “Mr. Tucker,” Rafael said, barely hiding his contempt for the man.

“Welcome back, Mr. Barba,” the familiar tinny voice sounded amicable enough. “I’m sure you’re glad to be back stateside.”

“What is this?”

Tucker let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can't see through the phone, Mr. Barba,” he said with more patience than Rafael normally gave him credit for.

“‘ _Secret Vicious Unknown_ ’,” Rafael read out loud, spitting the words as though they physically wounded him to read.

Tucker sighed again and Rafael could practically see him rubbing his forehead. “They’re a band.”

“Really? With a name like that?” Rafael’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Why am I being featured on a flyer with them?”

“Alex wanted to try something different this year, appeal to a younger audience. You’ll add a softer element to their songs.”

Rafael pulled his phone away from his ear and glared at it. “I refuse to do this,” he said flatly, the conversation already over in his head.

But Tucker seemed undeterred by his tone. “And if you do, you’ll be in breach of your contract, and lose your rehearsal space and your performance dates.”

Only the threat of losing his precious (and free) rehearsal space could’ve moved Rafael and he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why is Alex doing this to me?” he asked, knowing that he sounded petulant and not caring. “Surely there has to be another pianist who would be more interested in working with this band and suited for this kind of work?”

“Alex specifically requested you.” And damnit, Tucker sounded _amused_ by that. “Wants you to return to your roots or something like that. Who knows, maybe you need some humbling after London—”

“Ed—”

Tucker cut him off before he could even get a word of his ready excuse out. “No Rafael, we discussed this, it was immature and we lost thousands of dollars.”

Rafael hated when Tucker was right and he sighed heavily, weighing his options for a long moment before asking, “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice,” Tucker said reasonably, but Rafael could tell by the triumphant edge to his voice that he knew he’d won.

Which left Rafael with no other option but to sigh again and tell Tucker reluctantly, “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Tucker said. “I’ll let Alex know. She’ll be thrilled.”

Rafael ran his fingers lightly across the keys of his piano. “She’s the only who will be,” he said darkly and hung up on Tucker before he could offer any platitudes, they were the last thing Rafael wanted to hear.

He sat down at the piano and stared blankly at the keys before his hands moved of their own accord, launching into Liszt’s “Totentanz”, the only piece he could think of off the top of his head that would even begin to channel his frustration.

“Look who’s finally graced us with his presence.” Rafael didn’t even need to look up to know that it was Rita, and he ignored her. “Judging by your song choice, I’m going to assume you heard about our orchestra’s latest collaboration.”

Now Rafael did glance up, only briefly, to glare at the violinist as she sauntered towards him. “Rita, what brings you to my personal hell?” he asked dryly. “Coming to stoke the fires?”

“Can’t I just check on a friend?” Rita asked innocently. “See how they’re doing?”

Rafael snorted. “Well, you’ve seen me, so I’ll let you be on your way then.”

Rita ignored the dismissal, leaning against Rafael’s piano — she was the only one who could get away with touching his prized instrument, and thus did so every chance she could, just to piss him off. “I knew you’d be annoyed,” she told him.

Rolling his eyes, Rafael scoffed, “Annoyed? I’m not annoyed, I’m—”

“Such a diva?” Rita supplied.

Rafael hit an incorrect note on the piano and abruptly stopped playing, his hands dropping into his lap as he glared up at her. “Remind me why we’re friends again,” he huffed.

Rita smirked at him. “I ask myself that everyday.”

He rolled his eyes again and put his hands back on the piano keys, picking out the opening notes for “Für Elise”, knowing that it was one of Rita’s least favorite songs. “Seriously, did you actually want something, or are you just here to mock me?”

“Believe it or not — and I know you won’t — I really did want to see how you were doing,” Rita said, and she had that slightly concerned tone of voice, the one that set Rafael’s teeth on edge because he could see where this conversation was going. “After London—”

“London was a mistake,” Rafael told her, a warning edge to his voice. “And believe me, this newest abomination — I mean, _collaboration_ — of Alex’s is punishment enough.”

Rita was many things, but stupid was not one of them, so she dropped the topic. “Fine. Drinks tonight? I believe it’s your turn to buy.”

“That depends. Are you going to try to get me to go home with every Juilliard groupie that so much as makes eye contact with me?” Rafael asked, recalling all too well the last time they went out drinking.

“As much as I think you need to get laid, I promise I won’t,” Rita told him, though she couldn’t seem to stop herself from adding, “But one of these days, you’ll find the perfect doe-eyed, dimpled fan and you’ll wish I was there to be your wingwoman.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right,” he snorted.

He had no idea just how right Rita would end up being.

* * *

 

Olivia cleared her throat, attempting to talk over the sounds of Nick and Amanda trying to one up each other by playing the loudest they could, the discordant noise echoing through the converted rehearsal space they were temporarily using. “I’ve got an announcement,” she said, but no one paid her any attention, Sonny and Mike too busy egging the others on to listen. She rolled her eyes and crossed to Nick’s amp to unplug his bass, smiling almost grimly at the horrible shriek of feedback from the amp. “Do I have everyone’s attention now?” 

“Sorry, Liv,” Nick said, but he was grinning. “What’s up?”

Olivia held up the flyer in her hand. “What’s up is that I’ve got your next gig all set up.”

Sonny made to take the flyer from Olivia but Mike beat him to it, frowning down at the flyer. “Hudson Concert Hall?” he asked, doubt clear in his voice. “You really think our kind of music is going to fit in there?”

But Sonny’s heart had skipped a beat and he repeated Mike's question. “Hudson Concert Hall?” He tried to keep from sounding too excited. “Does that mean we’ll be working with—”

“The Hudson Concert Orchestra, yes, but mostly we’ll be collaborating with their pianist, Rafael Barba on some new arrangements,” Olivia said, nodding.

Amanda’ head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at Sonny. “Barba?” she repeated. “Isn’t he that classical snob you’ve been obsessed with forever?”

“I’m not obsessed with him,” Sonny snapped, snatching the flyer from Mike and staring at the simple words ‘Secret Vicious Unknown with Rafael Barba’ as if afraid they might disappear from the page. “And I’m sure he’s not a snob.”

At least, Sonny hoped he wasn’t, because Amanda was closer to accurate about his obsession than he would ever admit and he would probably be a little devastated if his musical icon turned out to be a snob. Sonny had been a fan of Rafael Barba since he was a child, after his nonna had recognized his rhythmic banging on her old upright piano as more than just childlike messing around and gotten him a music teacher who introduced him to the music of New York’s very own piano prodigy.

His music teacher had probably meant for it to be inspiring, to let Sonny know that if he worked hard, he too could be playing Carnegie Hall by the age of 15. Instead, Sonny found his own type of inspiration, the kind that left him scribbling horribly sappy love songs about a man ten years his senior in the margins of his math homework and abandoning the piano for the electric guitar in high school, where he and his friends formed a band predominantly so that Sonny would have somewhere to perform those songs.

While college separated the band, Sonny kept playing, busking on the streets or opening for local acts at various bars. And after stints playing with different bands in vastly different genres — indie rock, heavy metal, and for one memorable stint that had lasted only a week, Kentucky bluegrass — a friend of a friend told him that Olivia Benson, manager for the legendary punk group Secret Vicious Unknown, was looking for a new guitarist.

It had taken Sonny calling in favors from every person he could think of, but finally, _finally_ , he had managed to snag an audition.

And then almost promptly ruined it.

Maybe it was the mustache, a mistake he regretted to this day, or the overly-gelled hair or the hoodie and faded jeans, but nothing about Sonny had screamed ‘punk’, and judging by the look on Olivia Benson’s face when she met him, she was thinking just that.

Even his overly-buoyant “Domick Carisi Jr., but call me Sonny” had been met with a flat look that implied that Olivia would never in a million years call him ‘Sonny’, and he knew he was off to a bad start when she took a deep breath and asked, mostly rhetorically, “I asked for a talented, experienced guitarist, and they sent you?”

“I’m talented,” Sonny had said, unable to keep his big mouth shut as usual.

Olivia merely arched an eyebrow at him. “Then prove it.”

So he did.

As soon as he sat down and started the opening chords of one of SVU’s older classics, he had felt his nerves melt away because Sonny _was_ talented. And this was his opportunity to prove it. Sonny glanced up at Olivia as he played, subtly reworking the guitar riffs to put his own spin on the song, and as he saw the surprise on her face settle into something like grudging respect, he ducked his head to hide his triumphant grin.

And when he finished playing, Olivia had merely cleared her throat and asked, businesslike, “Did I hear that you write songs as well?”

This time, Sonny hadn’t bothered to hide his smile as he dug in his guitar case for one of the many songs he’d written. Olivia had read it over, her expression inscrutable, and when she glanced back up at him, it was to tell him, “I think the band will want to meet you.”

And the rest was history.

Of course, what Olivia hadn’t known then, and what Sonny certainly wasn’t going to tell her now, was that the song he had given her to read had originally been scribbled on the back of a Hudson Musical Hall program when inspiration had struck during a solo concert performance by one Rafael Barba.

Sonny believed in a lot of things, and as he looked down at the flyer in his hand, he couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, this was fate twenty years in the making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Our visual inspiration for Sonny.](http://do-me-carisi.tumblr.com/post/161401221248/peter-scanavino-in-every-role-leon-the)  
>     
> [Our visual inspiration for Barba.](https://youtu.be/eBBPKedba5o?t=1m)  
>    
> Barba's incident in London shamelessly taken from [this news item.](http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/10098301/Pianist-Krystian-Zimerman-storms-out-of-concert-in-protest-at-being-filmed-on-phone.html)


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the tantrum he’d thrown, Rafael honestly hadn’t given much further thought to his upcoming collaboration until he ran into a familiar face outside the concert hall. “Olivia,” he said, managing a smile for someone he used to consider a friend, until this collaboration was foisted on him, anyway. “It’s been too long.”

Olivia smiled as well, a genuine, warm smile. “It most certainly has,” she said, falling into step next to him as they both headed towards the door.

“What are you doing here?” Rafael asked with genuine curiosity. Then, before she could answer, “Do you have time to catch up over drinks?”

“As if I could say no to drinks with my band’s newest collaborator,” she teased, not seeming to notice the way Rafael’s expression stiffened at the reminder. “But even if I didn’t have time, for you I would make time. Forlini’s?”

Rafael nodded woodenly and held the door open for her, forcing his expression back into something neutral. “Lead the way.”

As they walked together to the bar only a few blocks from the hall, Olivia filled Rafael in on what she had been doing there in the first place: “I had a meeting with Alex. We were finalizing the details on our upcoming collaboration.”

“As, yes,” Rafael said, a dour edge to his voice. “I had heard that you were the one to blame for this collaboration.”

Olivia gave him a look. “Don’t knock my band, Barba,” she said, a warning note accompanying her teasing smile. “They’re exceptionally talented. Something you used to be.”

Rafael snorted but didn’t take the bait. “I’m sure they are,” he said coolly.

“Say that with slightly more enthusiasm and I may just believe you.”

They arrived at the bar and Rafael ordered a glass of cabernet for Olivia and two fingers of scotch for himself as Olivia settled onto a barstool. “I assume your drink hasn’t changed,” he said, sliding the wine glass over to her.

“No more than yours,” she said, holding up her glass to clink against his. “I’d say we should cheers to our collaboration, but I sense you’re lacking the appropriate excitement.”

Rafael sighed and made a face, tempted to just throw back his scotch as the only reply he really needed to give. “Can’t I just avoid this entire thing by saying that it’s definitely not worth your band’s time?” he asked hopefully.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Probably not,” she said amicably. “They’re all very excited to be working with you.”

If possible, Rafael’s face fell even further. “Oh, joy,” he sighed.

Olivia reached out to rest a gentle hand on top of his, but he wasn’t deceived by the gesture, reading the steel in her eyes as she told him, “Be polite, Rafael. It’s the least you can do.”

Rafael grimaced but nonetheless held up his own glass to clink against Olivia’s. “Fine,” he said. “To politeness.”

Olivia rolled her eyes but still clinked her glass against his. “I’ll drink to that,” she said. “And to the start of this collaboration, no matter your feelings on it.”

There were many things Rafael wanted to say to that, but he settled for downing his scotch in a single gulp, figuring the gesture said more to Olivia than he ever could.

* * *

 

“Carisi,” Amanda snapped, reaching out to clamp her hand down on Sonny’s leg, which he couldn’t seem to stop bouncing.

“Sorry Amanda,” he said, blushing his apology. He felt like a little kid on Christmas Day, and even though he knew his nerves were driving his bandmates nuts, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “Leave him alone, Amanda,” he said genially, though he added with a smirk, “It’s not everyday a guy meets the love of his life.”

Mike shook his head. “I just hope he doesn’t judge all of us against Sonny,” he said. “If nothing else, the boundless enthusiasm is sure to scare him off.”

Sonny just shrugged off his bandmates’ comments, knowing full well that they were just teasing him. Besides, it’s not like they were that far off base.

As their limo crawled closer towards Hudson, he couldn’t stop the thoughts of Rafael Barba that flooded his mind. What was the man like in person? Did he know who the band was? Or, and the thought both embarrassed and thrilled him, who Sonny was?

He didn't dare to hope that Rafael was a fan of his but SVU was famous enough that he may have heard them on the radio. If he even listened to the radio. If he even liked punk music. If he even cared.

Just when Sonny thought the panic welling in his veins might overwhelm him, the limo pulled up to the curb and Mike, perhaps sensing just a little bit of what was running through Sonny’s head, grabbed him by the arm to drag him out of the car and towards the main entrance.

Sonny took a deep breath as he looked up at the stone exterior of the music hall. It had been both too long and not long enough since he had stepped inside the music hall, and since his trips inside had been to see Rafael’s shows (every single one of them, not that he would ever admit that to his bandmates or risk eternal torment), it was with a great deal of trepidation that he followed his bandmates into the building.

The band met Olivia and a pretty blonde woman with glasses in the lobby. “Everyone, this is Alexandra Cabot, the music director here,” Olivia said, in a tone that warned them all to be polite.

After quick introductions all around, Alexandra smiled at them all before telling them warmly, “Please, call me Alex, and thank you all for agreeing to participate in this little experiment. I’m sure Liv has filled you in, so I’ll give you the grand tour.”

As Alex led them through the back rooms of the building, pointing out the facilities, the offices and of course the individual rehearsal spaces, Sonny mostly tuned her out, though he quickly started paying attention as soon as Rafael was mentioned. “Since you’ll be working closely with our featured pianist, Rafael Barba, I imagine you’ll be spending a lot of time in his rehearsal space,” she said, gesturing almost carelessly into the room.

Sonny peered in with barely contained excitement. Rafael’s personal piano stood out larger than life, the white keys glistening even through the darkness of the room, and Sonny probably would’ve stood there staring for longer than he cared to admit if it wasn’t for Amanda poking him in the side. “It’s just a piano,” she told him, amused. “Please don’t stare this hard when you actually meet the man.”

Alex cleared her throat. “Speaking of Rafael, he should be just about done with rehearsal, and I imagine he’s looking forward to meeting you all.”

She gestured for them to continue to follow her, and this time, Sonny almost tripped over his own feet in his excitement as he followed her, his heart beating almost painfully hard as he heard the familiar tones of “Rhapsody in Blue” echo throughout the hallways.

Then, finally, they entered the spectacular concert hall, and there he was: Rafael Barba, the man himself, sitting at the piano onstage, surrounded by the orchestra and dressed in a gorgeous suit that left Sonny feeling like he’d stepped out of a slum.

Thankfully, he was not the only one staring at Rafael, and he allowed himself a moment of smug self-satisfaction as his bandmates all focused on Rafael, watching in silence as his hands danced expertly across the keys, wrenching note after note from the concert grand. Still, Sonny was probably the only one to notice the bored look on Rafael’s face as he ran through the motions of the piece, clearly not finding it a suitable challenge.

That bored look soured considerably when he looked over and noticed them standing there and watching him, and Sonny felt the familiar twinge of panic as the man’s gaze swept dispassionately over them. But then Rafael turned back to face the conductor as the piece reached its climax.

After the piece ended, they waited while the conductor handed out notes, and once the orchestra began packing up Alex nudged the group forward towards the stage. Sonny was bouncing on the balls of his feet again, but this time, none of his bandmates seemed to have it in them to tell him to stop.

Eventually Rafael made his way towards them, a stiff smile gracing his handsome features as he reached their manager. “Olivia,” Rafael said, shaking her hand, though his smile disappeared as he turned to face the band.

Olivia gave the man a look that Sonny couldn’t quite read before she introduced the band. “Rafael, this is SVU. Michael Dodds, our lead vocalist, Amanda Rollins, our drummer, Nicolás Amaro is our bassist—” Carisi could feel himself blushing as Olivia and Rafael both turned to him. “—and this overeager man is Dominick Carisi, he’s a fan of yours.”

“Call me Sonny.” Sonny said it automatically, with his most winning smile, and he could feel his blush deepen as Barba’s eyes raked down his body before landing on his proferred hand, which Rafael made no attempt to shake. Sonny’s smile faltered as the other man’s smirk grew, and his hand fell limply to his side.

Rafael raised a single eyebrow at him. “Charmed.” He didn't sound it. “I’d love to say that I’m also a fan, but truthfully, I’m not sure your... _genre_ can quite be considered music. At least, not comparatively.” Olivia was staring daggers at him and even Alex looked a little taken aback. “That being said, I’m of course looking forward to spending my contractually obligated time with you, in hopes of turning even second rate hacks into musicians. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

The band watched in something like shocked silence as the pianist strutted from the room, a smirk still plastered across his face.

Amanda was the first to recover her voice, looking downright furious. “Told you he was a snob,” she told Sonny, though there was no gloating in her tone.

Olivia muttered something to Alex, who nodded, already pulling her cellphone from her handbag. “I’ll call Tucker, see if he can talk Rafael into playing nice.”

As Alex stalked off, her cellphone pressed to her ear, Olivia turned back to the band, her expression turning sympathetic as she met Sonny’s eyes. “Obviously that’s not how we wanted this collaboration to get started, but don’t worry about it. We’re going to get you guys set up in a rehearsal space, and I will personally ensure that Rafael is less of an ass the next time you meet him.”

Despite the very clear threat in Olivia’s voice, no one looked very convinced and any excitement that Sonny had once felt had completely disappeared. He ducked his head, trying to avoid the sympathetic looks all of his bandmates were now giving him. “Never meet your heroes,” Nick said, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Sonny,” Mike said quietly as he rested a hand on Sonny’s shoulder and squeezed.

Sonny forced his signature grin onto his face. “It's not your guys’ fault,” he said lightly. “Now c’mon, even second rate hacks have to practice.”

The band laughed lightly at that, their conversation turning back to its usual topics, but Sonny could think only of the smirk on Barba’s face as he had casually insulted them. It wasn’t that he had expected Rafael Barba of all people to be a punk rock fan. Even Sonny’s own mother wasn’t convinced that the music they played was any good. But to dismiss them so completely right from the get…

A normal person might’ve taken that dismissal at face value. But no one could ever accuse Sonny Carisi of being normal.

Instead, he took it as a challenge.

So Rafael Barba didn’t think their sound could be considered music? Then it was up to Sonny to prove him otherwise.

He’d show Barba just how much of a real musician he was if it was the last thing he did.

That thought consumed him as the band set up their equipment in their new rehearsal space, and when Mike looked at him and asked if he was ready to start rehearsing, Sonny grinned with newfound determination. “Oh yeah,” he said, adjusting his guitar strap. “I’m ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

After being thoroughly chewed out by Tucker, Rafael had avoided answering his phone, knowing that Olivia was going to yell at him and finding her frankly more terrifying than Ed by half.

Of course, the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone didn’t stop her from hunting him down — not like he was difficult to find.

She at least had the courtesy to wait for him to finish his practice piece before she invaded his rehearsal space, two cups of coffee in hand. “Is that for me?” Rafael asked, eyeing the coffee eagerly.

“It was meant to be,” Olivia said mildly, though she withheld the cup from him. “But then you decided to be a dick, and now I’m not sure if you deserve coffee.”

Rafael made a pleading face. “You know I’m even more irritating than usual without caffeine.”

Olivia rolled her eyes but reluctantly handed him the cup. “You promised to be polite,” she told him, disapproval clear in her tone.

“For me, that was polite,” Rafael grumbled, taking a sip of coffee. “But come on, Liv, you can’t actually expect this collaboration to turn out as anything other than disaster.”

“Well, with an attitude like that,” Olivia said, looking almost amused. “Ed wouldn’t have agreed to this if he thought it was going to be a disaster. You know as well as I do that he wants to make back the money he lost after London.”

Rafael scowled. “Tucker is doing this because he is punishing me for London.”

Olivia arched an eyebrow at him. “From what I understand, maybe you need a little punishment,” she said coolly. “And if the worst you can say about my band is that they’re punishment, well…” She trailed off and smiled slightly. “Well, then you’re losing your touch, obviously.”

Rafael rolled his eyes but found that he didn’t really have a comeback for that. “So what do you expect me to do, Liv? Go make nice with a bunch of dyed and pierced quasi-musicians?”

“Yes,” Olivia said simply. “Mainly because it’s your job at the moment.” Rafael made a face but didn’t comment and Olivia paused before adding, “Not to mention I think they have a lot to learn from you — and you from them.”

“Like what?” Rafael scoffed, but Olivia merely smiled sweetly at him as she walked away.

“Like how not to be an asshole,” she called over her shoulder.

Unfortunately, Olivia had a point — not about whatever Rafael was meant to learn from the band, but that he would be unable to avoid doing his job for long, and after delaying as much as possible, he had no excuses left, and so slowly made his way towards SVU’s designated rehearsal space. Even before he got there, he could hear the _noise_  emanating from the room, the banging sounds that he could only generously call music, and he took a moment to compose himself before pushing open the door and looking with disinterest at the people he was supposedly collaborating with.

The female of the group had bright pink hair, a tight white shirt with some sort of slogan on it and tight black jeans. She was hammering out some sort of supposed rhythm on the drums. Leaning slightly over her was the bassist, who was dressed similarly to the girl but had what Rafael imagined to be an ironic piercing in his brow.

On the other side of the room, the other two band members were messing around. The vocalist was in plain jeans and a nice shirt, and his hair was shockingly not dyed and no visible body parts were pierced. Rafael had to admit that all things considered, he looked normal. The guitarist, on the other hand, was in all black: black pants, tight black shirt, a black wrist cuff, even his hair was dyed black though Rafael swore he could see a slight hint of blond creeping out from the roots.

As the door slammed behind him, the band all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. He could feel the hairs on his neck prick up, and his palms started to sweat, but Rafael was damned if he was going to give these...people any indication of his own nerves. He stood straight, nodded curtly at them and then walked over to the baby grand that had been left in the corner for him.

He slid into the seat and fingered the keys, taking a deep breath and launching into Chopin’s Prelude Op. 28 No. 16. He hammered out the first few notes and then instinct took over and his hands just flew over the keys. Once he thundered out the last couple of notes he took a deep breath and sighed before turning to face the band members. He could feel their eyes all over him.

Suddenly, the guitarist burst into applause, even letting out a whoop of joy. The other band members politely followed suit, clearly not as impressed with him as their colleague was.

“That was just brilliant,” the guitarist said admiringly, and his smile could light up the whole room.

Rafael wracked his brain for the other man's name, remembering the promise that he had made Liv to play nice. “Thanks…”

“Sonny.” The other man didn't seemed fazed by Rafael’s lack of memory. “And they’re Mike, Amanda and Nick.” He indicated the relevant band members. “We’re all excited to work with you.”

The drummer — Amanda — in particular looked like that couldn’t be further from the truth, and Rafael hid a smile before turning back to Sonny. “So. How do you intend on doing this?”

The question seemed to take Sonny by surprise, and he gaped at Rafael. Nick cleared his throat. “We, uh, we sort of assumed you’d be taking charge here.”

For some reason, the statement caused Sonny to blush, and Rafael tore his eyes from the sight to nod at Nick. “I can do that,” he said easily. “But first, I need an idea of what each of you can do.”

“And, what, we don’t need to know what you can do?” Amanda asked, a challenge in her tone.

Rafael met her glare evenly. “You’ve heard me play twice now. If you still don’t know what I’m capable of, the problem is yours, not mine.” He smirked when her face went as pink as her hair. “Why don’t you start?”

Judging by the look she gave him as she pounded out a rapid beat, Amanda was pretending that every drum she hit was Rafael’s face. Still, she was good, and Rafael made a note in his music. “Nick, if you’d like to go next.”

The bassist shrugged and picked up his instrument. Rafael had to grudgingly admit that Nick was good as well, and had the sinking feeling that Olivia was going to be proven correct about her band’s abilities, and be insufferable for it. “Thank you,” Rafael said, as politely as he could muster, once Nick finished. He glanced at Mike. “I’m hardly a singer, so I’m certainly not going to pass judgment on your voice. If Olivia says you’re good, I trust her.”

“But you don’t trust the rest of us?” Amanda asked.

“Trust but verify,” Rafael said with a smirk.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “So you’re quoting Reagan now? God, you’re such a—”

Nick elbowed her sharply, cutting off whatever Amanda was about to say, and Rafael turned his smirk on Sonny, who was still slightly pink. “So. Sonny. What delightful song do you have prepared for me?”

To his surprise, Sonny’s answering smile was almost bashful and he ducked his head and picked his guitar up. “I, uh, I think you might recognize this,” he said with more than a little enthusiasm, and Rafael started to roll his eyes but paused when Sonny’s long fingers diligently picked out the opening notes for Bach’s Invention No. 1 in C Major.

Rafael would never in a million years admit it, but he was transfixed, watching those long fingers move smoothly and with no small amount of skill over the guitar’s strings. Sonny’s head was bowed, but not because he had to watch what he was doing. His hands seemed to move of their own accord, and Rafael would know — his hands often did the same thing as soon as they touched the piano keys.

Not that Rafael would even _begin_  to compare the overeager Sonny to himself. On literally any level.

But he still couldn’t tear his eyes away.

When the song was over, Sonny looked up at Rafael, a grin splitting his face when he saw Rafael staring at him, and Rafael quickly looked away. “So what’d you think?” Sonny asked eagerly.

Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you can play actual notes instead of just the same three chords that make up your songs?” he asked coolly.

Instead of looking offended, Sonny’s grin widened. “You've never actually heard any of our songs, have you?”

“No,” Rafael said shortly. “And I never intend to.”

“We’re going to be working together,” Sonny pointed out, unnecessarily. “So you’ll have to listen to our songs at some point.”

Mike cleared his throat. “In fact, why don’t we actually play you one of our songs now?” he suggested. “Just to give you a baseline for what we do.”

There was literally nothing Rafael would rather listen to less, but then again, it provided a tantalizing opportunity for him to watch Sonny play again, and Rafael was, on occasion, a weak man. “Fine,” he agreed, after a moment. “May as well get my crash course in what you generously call ‘music’ over with.”

Amanda rolled her eyes as Mike counted them in, and then they launched into one of what Rafael had to assume was their songs. And it was…

Honestly, it was worse than Rafael expected, all loudness and half-screamed words, and Rafael winced at the onslaught. If he had a less-discerning ear (or, perhaps, had been less of a snob), he might’ve noticed, though never admitted, that the music was good, and far better composed than he would have thought. The lyrics, too, were well-written, if Rafael had actually been able to pay attention to them instead of desperately wishing for a pair of ear plugs.

He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of Sonny playing when his delicate sensibilities were being insulted in this way, and when finally, _finally_ the band stopped playing, Rafael savored the return to silence and took a deep breath. “So that was…”

He trailed off, unable to find the words, and Sonny grinned at him. “Great, right?”

“Not exactly the word I would use,” Rafael said shortly. He chanced a look at his watch and was surprised to see the time, though grateful that it offered a convenient excuse in the form of the orchestra’s standing arrangement to meet at Forlini’s for drinks. If he stayed here too much longer, he’d miss it, and there was no way that Rafael was passing on drinks that night.

He looked at the band again, Sonny’s still-eager puppy dog expression making up for the glare Amanda was still sending his direction. He took a deep breath and decided, for perhaps the first time in his life, to hold back the snarky comments. “I think I need more time to adjust to our different... _styles_. In the meantime, the orchestra is having drinks at Forlini’s around the corner, and you should all join us.”

“You mean it?” Sonny asked, excitedly, and even Amanda managed to look slightly less insulted by Rafael’s very existence at the offer.

“Why not?” Rafael asked, forcing a smile. “It’ll give you a chance to get to know us better. And besides, it certainly can’t make things worse.”

* * *

 

Sonny enthusiastically bounced behind his bandmates as he followed them to Forlini’s. Rafael had made his excuses and said he’d meet them there, leaving them to find their own way. When the band finally reached the bar they stood outside the door, looking into the surprisingly dingy space.

“Are y’all sure you want to do this?” Amanda asked as she shivered slightly. It was bitterly cold out, and they could see her short breaths after each word. “We can always head back.”

Mike smirked. “Is Rollins afraid?”

“In her defense, they are a different breed,” Nick muttered. “At least, if any of them are like Mr. Barba.”

Sonny sighed, too eager to enter the bar to waste time arguing, and he drew his black leather jacket closer around himself. “What’s the—” he started, but before he could finish, the door to the bar swung open.

A fierce looking woman stepped out, Sonny felt his confidence wither under her gaze. “You must be SVU.” Her tone was cool rather than friendly. She looked them all up and down before holding the door open and beckoning them all inside. “My name’s Rita. Let me buy you a drink.”

* * *

 

Rafael’s vague hope was that one drink with the orchestra would leave SVU running for the hills, but he had forgotten about the force of nature that Rita Calhoun was, especially when it came to ruining his life. In the short time he had allotted for SVU to drink their fill and leave, Rita had instead gone out of her way to introduce SVU to seemingly every orchestra member.

Worst of all, rather than looking like they were about to leave at any moment, the band was instead relaxing and seemingly having a great time, their laughter echoing throughout the bar.

Rafael, on the other hand, isolated himself at the bar, his shoulders hunched as he tried to ignore the sounds of socializing around him. He had ordered a scotch on arrival and had been nursing it since, surprisingly unable to down it as quickly as normal.

To make matters worse, he watched Rita detach herself from the rest of the orchestra, smiling before gracefully making her way over. She beckoned the bartender and with a flirty smile managed to procure two scotches, sliding one glass toward him before raising her own and taking a drink.

Rafael ignored her pointed look. “Don't even think about it,” he warned, before she could even speak.

“Think about what?” she asked innocently, and coy was not a look the woman could pull off well.

He rolled his eyes at her before taking a sip of his own drink. “I’d prefer you not to convince some hapless student to try and lure me into bed.”

To his surprise, Rita smiled at that, the smug, satisfied smile of the cat who had gotten into the cream. “I don’t think I have to,” she said, tilting her glass towards the other side of the room.

Rafael followed her gaze across the room to where SVU was lounging among the orchestra members. He managed to catch Sonny’s gaze before the young man blushed and turned away. Rafael’s gaze snapped back towards Rita, seeing where her mind was going and trying to head it off at the pass. “No. Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Rafael,” Rita said, propping her chin on her hand and giving him an appraising look. “When was the last time you had so much as a meaningful conversation?”

“I converse with you all the time,” Rafael said. “Of course, I don’t know if any conversation with you counts as meaningful, but…”

Rita ignored him. “I meant romantically.”

For a moment, Rafael considered deflecting, obfuscating, changing the subject or doing anything in his power to avoid the question. Instead, he settled for draining his first glass of scotch and taking a sip of the second. “Not for a while,” he said quietly.

“You mean, not since Yelina.”

Rafael glared at her. “ _Rita_ ,” he admonished, because there were certain things that they had agreed to leave unspoken, and this was one road Rita really didn’t want to go down.

But Rita refused to be deterred. “I’m serious, Rafael,” she said, and the worst part was, she sounded worried, or at least, as worried as she got. “Or are you going to deny that your little meltdown in London was as least partially caused by the news that Yelina and Alex Muñoz’s jazz quartet was playing down the street?”

Rafael slammed his second scotch and gestured curtly for another one. “That is none of your business,” he said sharply. “ _None_.”

“Rafael, as your friend—”

“I told you to drop it,” Rafael said icily. “So drop it.”

Rita stared at him for a long moment, a challenge clear in every line of her body, but then she shook her head and drained her own glass of scotch. “Fine,” she said coolly, standing up from the bar. “But even if you don’t believe it, I want you to be happy. And the only way you’re ever going to be is if you stop holding onto the past and start seeing what’s actually around you.”

Rafael bit back his retort, because first of all, what did Rita know about it? And not only that, but there was no circumstance under which what was ‘actually around him’ included gangly, overly-enthusiastic guitar players.

But he said none of that, mostly because Rita had already left, making her way back to the orchestra and leaving Rafael sitting and drinking alone.


	4. Chapter 4

When Barba walked into the rehearsal space the next day, he was mentally prepared for the onslaught of noise, for the loud clothing and even louder music. He had even preemptively downed four ibuprofen in preparation (and not at all because he had a slight hangover from the night before).

What he wasn’t mentally prepared for was just Sonny, sitting on a stool and tuning an acoustic guitar.

Sonny, who bounded to his feet as soon as Rafael stepped into the room. Sonny, who beamed at him like he had never been more excited to see someone in his life. Sonny, who set his guitar down so that he could pick up a coffee cup and offer it to Rafael with a cheerful, “Here, brought this for you.”

Rafael was mentally prepared for none of that.

Still, he was also never going to turn down coffee, no matter who had brought it for him. “Thanks,” he said, grudgingly, taking the coffee and blowing on it before asking, “Where are the rest of your delightful band mates?”

“Sleeping off their hangovers, probably,” Sonny said with a grin, though he quickly added, “Kidding. Uh, we sorta elected to have me work with you to start with, just until we got some stuff down on paper. It's, uh, less overwhelming that way.”

“For me or for you?” Rafael asked, taking a cautious sip of coffee.

Sonny blushed slightly. “Uh, both, I guess,” he mumbled, picking his guitar up again and strumming the strings in a distracted, almost nervous fashion. “So anyway, I thought we could, I dunno, work first on integrating the piano into our songs and then build the orchestration out from there?”

He said the words hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure that it was his place to say anything, and Rafael was duty-bound to roll his eyes and scoff, “Oh, good, I admire presumption in a man”, even if the suggestion was a good one — even if the suggestion was exactly what Rafael was going to offer.

“Well, what did you have in mind?” Sonny shot back, and Rafael scowled, because he didn't exactly have an alternate plan at the ready.

Luckily, he was saved from having to produce one by a knock on the door and Rita poking her head into the room, smiling far too satisfiedly for Rafael’s taste at the two of them. “Good morning,” she said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You are,” Rafael said pointedly at the exact same time Sonny assured her, “Of course not”, and Rita’s smile widened as she sauntered into the room.

“I just wanted to return Sonny’s jacket,” she told them, and Rafael’s eyes snapped to the black leather jacket folded over Rita’s arm. “He was kind enough to let me borrow it last night when I was cold.”

Sonny had gone very red and couldn't seem to meet Rafael’s eyes as he accepted the jacket from Rita. “It was no big deal,” he mumbled. “My ma woulda killed me if I'd let a lady walk home with no jacket.”

“How very punk rock of you, doing what your mother tells you to,” Rafael said coolly, and if anything, Sonny’s blush deepened. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Rita…”

He trailed off expectantly and Rita smirked at him. “Of course,” she said, her tone perfectly matching Rafael’s. “I’ll let you get to it.”

Both Rafael and Sonny watched her leave, and only when the door closed did Rafael roll his eyes and take a gulp of coffee. “Subtle,” he muttered, sitting down at the piano.

“What?” Sonny asked, glancing over at him, clearly unsure if Rafael had been talking to him or not.”

“Nothing,” Rafael snapped, pulling his cellphone out from his back pocket, unsurprised to see a text from Rita, a single word that made him practically grind his teeth together: _Jealous?_

He took a deep breath and set his phone on the piano. “Let’s just do this,” he said, trying to sound as businesslike as possible. “Play the bridge of the song from yesterday, would you? I think I had an idea for where to take it.”

As Sonny hurried to obey, picking the guitar up again, Rafael took another deep breath. He was not jealous, no matter what Rita might think. And he’d be damned if he was going to allow himself to be distracted by a punk rocker with long, nimble fingers. “Yes, right there,” he said, pausing Sonny mid-strum. “Pick it up from the start of the bridge.”

This time, as Sonny played, Rafael joined in, working the piano in with the guitar, and Sonny brightened. “Oh, man, that sounds great!” he said excitedly.

“I know,” Rafael said, rolling his eyes. “So keep playing.”

And as the room filled with music, Rafael allowed himself to relax slightly, all thoughts of jealousy and distraction and even what it would be like to wear Sonny’s leather jacket disappearing.

Well, almost.

* * *

 

It took three weeks of daily rehearsals for Sonny to get anything other than a scowl out of Rafael. Granted, the mood had improved considerably since that first rehearsal, as Rafael came to grudgingly respect Sonny’s contributions to their collaboration.

At least, Sonny assumed he was respecting him more, if only because Rafael had stopped rolling his eyes at every suggestion Sonny offered, and the sarcastic comments now only numbered a few dozen per rehearsal, rather than a few hundred.

Still, there was some wall that Sonny just couldn't break through. Rafael was consummately professional, never asking about Sonny’s background or personal life, and Sonny took that as sign he shouldn't either, no matter how much he wanted to know everything about Rafael.

Then, out of the blue one day in the middle of rehearsal, Rafael looked at Sonny critically and asked, “Is the black a requirement for being considered ‘punk’?”

Sonny was so thrown by the question that he just stared at him for a long moment before he could answer. “Uh, no, of course not,” he said, glancing down at himself and realizing that he was, indeed, still dressed head to toe in black. Well, almost head to toe. He hadn't bothered re-dyeing his hair recently since they weren't performing anytime soon and the dark color was beginning to fade. “But it does help me stay in character, I guess.”

Rafael raised an eyebrow at that. “In character?” he repeated, mock-scandalized. “Are you telling me the whole angry punk thing is just an act?”

Sonny shrugged. “Maybe not for Amanda or Nick,” he allowed. “But for me—” He sighed and shrugged again. “I don't have as much punk cred as the rest of the band, so I kinda have to keep proving myself.”

“As much ‘punk cred’?” Rafael echoed, something incredulous in his expression. “What, precisely, does that mean?”

“It means I didn't always play punk music,” Sonny said shortly, not wanting to get into his history of bouncing from band to band and genre to genre, not wanting to give Rafael another reason to mock him. “And since the band likes to remind me of that sometimes, it's easier to dress like I'm as punk as any of them.”

Though Rafael nodded slowly, something in expression shifted. “Mike doesn't dress like a punk.”

Sonny made a face. “Mike doesn't have to,” he said. “Don't you know who his father is? He's a top record company exec. Mike could have his pick of bands to sing for, but he likes SVU’s music.”

“Is that why you joined SVU? You liked the music?”

Sonny frowned. “Is this an interrogation?” he asked. “I feel like I need to ask for my attorney.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and huffed an annoyed sigh, straightening the sheet music on his piano. “Forgive me for being slightly curious as to how a mama’s boy from Staten Island who can play Bach reasonably well wound up in a punk band.”

“Mama’s boy?” Sonny asked, insulted, followed by, even more insulted, “Reasonably well?!”

Rafael smirked at him. “If the shoe fits…”

Sonny’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If you hafta know, I started out playing classical music. On the piano, even. My piano teacher thought I was good.” He paused, giving Rafael a smirk of his own. “Almost as good as piano prodigy Rafael Barba.”

“Oh, are we telling fairytales now?” Rafael shot back, but he seemed more intrigued than anything. “So if you were so good, why did you stop playing?”

Sonny shrugged. “I sorta fell in with a band in high school, and that took me down a different path.” He blushed slightly, remembering all too well the subject matter that had initially made him switch genres, the subject matter currently sitting across the room from him and looking gorgeous as usual in a perfectly tailored grey suit. “Anyway,” he said quickly, to hide his own embarrassment, “I always planned on getting back into classical stuff eventually. But then I joined SVU, and now I’m part of a family, you know? And I'm not just gonna leave that behind.”

“Even if you have to keep proving your ‘punk cred’ to them?” Rafael asked, a little shrewdly.

Sonny just shrugged again. “I figure after about five, six years, they might stop calling me ‘new guy’ and then I can stop having to worry about earning my place there,” he joked, smiling.

There was something unreadable in Rafael’s expression, like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring himself to do so. “You don't have to prove yourself to me,” he said finally, and when Sonny just gaped at him, quickly added with his usual snark, “I just mean, your punk credentials are worthless to me, so if you think you're accomplishing something with the all-black ensemble, think again.”

Still, Sonny was pretty sure that he saw a touch of pink on Rafael’s cheeks, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning for pretty much the rest of that day's rehearsal.

And the next day, when Sonny arrived at rehearsal wearing a navy blue Henley, Rafael looked almost startled for a moment.

Then he smiled at Sonny, the first genuine, non-sardonic smile he'd ever given him. “Glad to know you take my fashion advice,” Rafael said, sitting down at the piano. “Let's take it from the top.”

And Sonny allowed himself, for just a moment, to imagine that he might just have earned his spot making music with Rafael Barba.


	5. Chapter 5

As loath as Rafael was to admit it, Sonny Carisi had talent, and not just for any instrument that he picked up or for translating all of SVU’s noise into something Rafael could actually read on paper. Sonny also had a talent for giving Rafael exactly what he needed, from an extra large coffee at the start of each day to a smile and a ready quip whenever Rafael was either distracted or concentrating too hard to even just putting up with Rafael’s purposefully antagonistic comments when things weren’t going as smoothly, and in the process, Rafael was beginning to find himself looking forward to the hours they spent toiling away, arguing over styles and which parts should be adapted. He even found himself enjoying the collaboration process.

And of course, Sonny _was_ talented musically, almost as talented as Rafael, though he absolutely would never admit it. But on the subject of things he would never in a million years admit, Rafael had secretly listened to SVU’s entire discography, had spent a week’s worth of evenings immersing himself in what he had initially dismissed as noise. And he could practically pinpoint the moment when Sonny joined SVU, the subtle shifts in their sound that had, in his opinion, made the band better. Rafael had obviously not followed any of the story in the tabloids when Stabler had left SVU, but in his opinion, SVU was much better off with Sonny writing the music and lyrics (even if every band member got writing credit, he could hear Sonny in the chords as much as the lyrics and knew who was really responsible, even if he’d never take sole credit).

So while Rafael was unwilling to admit it, the fact that Sonny actually had talent certainly couldn’t escape him, especially since that talent was accompanied by pretty blue eyes and a goofy smile that should have done nothing to endear him to Rafael but somehow enabled him to creep under his thick defenses. It hadn’t hurt matters that as the days went on, Sonny seemed to transform before his eyes from the overeager, trying too hard punk to someone finally somewhat comfortable around him in jeans and colored shirts and with dirty blond hair after the black finally faded.

“Are you allowed to have light hair?” Rafael asked absently one day, marking something in his music. “What about the impact on your ‘punk cred’?”

He purposely avoided looking up at Sonny and as such missed the startled look Sonny threw him, though he did look up in time to see Sonny run a hand through his lighter-colored hair. “Nah, I’m not too worried,” Sonny said with a smile. “I don’t dye it when we’re not on tour. I don’t see the point.”

Rafael accepted that explanation and bit back his ready compliment that light hair looked good on him. There was no point stoking the young guitarist’s ego, after all.

Though Rafael was certain that the grudging respect he had developed for Sonny would disappear once they opened their rehearsals to the rest of SVU, the opposite proved true. Each band member brought something new to the process but somehow, Sonny made it all make sense, and even Amanda’s glare couldn’t dim the warmth of Sonny’s smile at the end of their first rehearsal.

In fact, things were going so well that Rafael was honestly surprised when Liv called him and asked if he wanted to get a drink and discuss how the collaboration was going. Still, he took her up on it and was even still smiling when he pushed open the door of the bar, though his smile faded slightly when he saw who Liv was with. “Rafael!” Olivia called, waving him over. “You remember my promotions partner, Fin Tutuola?”

“Of course,” Rafael said, shaking Fin’s hand. “Good to see you again.” He switched his gaze to Olivia. “You wanted to talk.”

Olivia nodded, something almost calculating in her expression before she gestured for Rafael to sit. “I did,” she said lightly. “I was just telling Fin how impressed I am with what you’ve done so far with the collaboration, and how well you’ve been working with Sonny.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and flagged the bartender down for a drink. “He hasn’t made things any more difficult than I expected, at least,” he said dismissively. “So if I may ask, why is Fin here, since we don’t exactly have anything to promote yet?”

Fin chuckled. “Blunt as always, Barba,” he said, taking a swig of beer. “But according to Olivia, your work with SVU is almost done, meaning we will have something to promote sooner rather than later.”

Rafael narrowed his eyes at Olivia, feeling a completely absurd pang in his chest at the realization that his time with Sonny — with _SVU_ , that is — was coming to an end. “We’ve barely even started on the orchestrations—” he started, but Olivia cut him off.

“The orchestrations are the easy part after you’ve worked out the base arrangements,” she said mildly. “And I just needed to give Fin a ballpark estimate on when you’d be done.” Rafael shook his head, but she continued without letting him interrupt. “I figure you’ve got a couple weeks left rehearsing with the band before the orchestra comes in for rehearsals and tweaks to the orchestrations, which will take, what, two, maybe three months?” She was addressing this part predominantly at Fin, who was nodding. Both were ignoring Rafael, which was good, because he was pretty sure that he looked stricken at the thought. “Which means we’ll be looking at an opening date about 3 and a half months from now.”

“Done,” Fin said, scribbling something down on his notepad. “I’ll reach out to the usual people, get them started on preliminary promotions. Once we get a firm date, we’ll go from there.”

With that, he stood, finished his beer and left with no more than a nod at both Olivia and Rafael, who rounded on Olivia, his expression dark. “Was that really necessary?” he asked.

Olivia merely raised an eyebrow at him as she took a sip of wine. “If you want this to be a success, yes. I know you’d rather pretend that you’ve never even heard of SVU, but…”

Rafael surprised himself by shrugging and saying, without thinking, “They’re not so bad.” Olivia gave him a look and Rafael quickly amended, “They’re tolerable in small doses.”

“Hmmm.” Olivia’s answering hum was neutral, but the look on her face was knowing. “By the way, do I need to warn you not to hurt my guitarist?”

Rafael stared at her, drink in hand but seemingly unable to take a sip. “I’m sorry?” he said, his voice coming out higher pitched than was frankly respectable.

Olivia’s neutral expression had slipped into something more serious. “Sonny’s very fond of you. That’s been abundantly clear in everything he’s told me about working with you.”

“He’s...he’s talked about working with me?” Rafael asked, finally managing to pound his drink and gesturing for another.

Something in Olivia’s face softened. “Well, as a part of keeping me updated on how things are going, of course.” She paused and made a face. “Besides, you’ve been working with Sonny for awhile now. You know what he’s like once he starts talking.”

Rafael snorted and rolled his eyes, something almost fond in his expression as he remembered the time Sonny had managed to waste two entire hours by starting to tell a story about his baby niece and somehow ending with the time Nick had gotten the entire band kicked out of the venue they were supposed to be performing in. “I have yet to find a particularly effective way of shutting him up, that is true.”

“Exactly,” Olivia said, her calculating expression. “And based on what he’s told me, it sounds like you two have become...close.”

Truthfully, Rafael didn’t really know what to say to that. A flat out denial would only make Olivia think she was on the correct track, and he would have to be an idiot not to be at least slightly aware of the fact that Sonny bringing him coffee and lighting up around him and sometimes just staring at him like he was the greatest thing Sonny had ever seen probably meant that Sonny had developed some kind of feelings. “I don’t date musicians,” Rafael said instead, as bluntly as he could manage.

Olivia looked slightly taken aback. “I would think that’d narrow the dating field for you quite a bit,” she remarked neutrally.

Rafael shrugged and downed his second drink. “Let’s just say it was a lesson that I learned the hard way.”

And oh, how he had learned it. Even all these years later, he didn’t think he could even hear the names Alex or Yelina without feeling a little part of his heart break all over again.

Alex had been his roommate his first year at Juilliard, and at first, it had been the perfect arrangement: Rafael, still struggling to earn the title of prodigy that had been bestowed on him, managed to feel at home around Alex, another prodigy from _el barrio_. Together with another Bronx transplant, Eddie, they declared themselves ‘Los Tres Mosqueteros de la Resedencia de Meredith Willson’.

Rafael would never admit it, but they were his first real friends.

And then he had met Yelina, and it seemed as if all the pieces of his life were falling into place.

Yelina, with her deceptively sweet smile and excruciatingly sharp tongue, had made him feel like more than just a prodigy or piano player. She had made him feel like a man. They spent hours in the orchestra practice room together discussing their careers post-Juilliard, their plans to join an orchestra, become soloists and perform together.

She had let him kiss her for the first time in that room, let him pull her onto the piano bench and kiss her the way he had wanted to for weeks at that point. And Rafael would never forget the way she had laughed after she had accidentally hit a sour chord on the piano while trying to steady herself against it and Rafael had broken off kissing her to scowl at the discordant noise.

But while he was busy falling in love with her, both Yelina and Alex were becoming disenchanted with Juilliard. Yelina’s attitude had started to change when Rafael was the one gaining the accolades and not her. Hours spent tangled together beneath the sheets or just spending time together in the practice room became a thing of the past as he was specifically requested and she yet again failed to make first trumpet. And Alex -- well, Alex claimed that the professors weren’t letting him stick to his Cubano roots, that they were trying to change him, but Rafael had a sneaking suspicion that it was more Alex’s obstinance at fault than the school’s.

Not that it made much difference in the end.

Alex and Yelina left Juilliard together and took Eddie with them, three parts of the eventual Muñoz Cuban Jazz Quartet, and Rafael lost both his best friend and the love of his life all in one day.

His music changed, then, and that was the true shame, because while Rafael was great, he knew he could’ve been so much better with his heart intact. There were still some songs he couldn’t touch now, songs that reminded him too much of Yelina’s laughter or Alex’s rhythmic strumming of an acoustic guitar, and when Rafael ran into her and Alex in London before one of his concerts, he found that he still ached for her, still ached for them both, for the easy happiness they had once shared and that he knew he would never again find.

There was a reason Rita worried about him and his love life, and not just because she was insufferably nosy. No, she worried because while Rafael had thrown himself into his music, to letting it speak for him and for the parts of him he couldn’t bear to expose again, he hadn’t yet been able to move on.

And then Sonny had appeared, at the most inopportune of times in the most inopportune of ways. Sonny, who had gone from annoying to endearing faster than Rafael had thought was possible. Sonny, who was warm and smart and talented, and Rafael would be tempted, _so_ tempted, if Sonny did literally anything else for a living, if he were a cop or a lawyer, or, hell, a janitor even.

But no, Sonny was a musician, and a damn good one, but Rafael couldn’t stand the thought of his own music taking a hit again when things inevitably ended because his music was the only thing that he had left.  
  
He realized too late that Olivia had been staring at him with open concern on her face, and he flushed and turned away to order another drink. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“Fine,” Rafael said shortly.

Olivia’s lips pursed slightly but she didn’t push back on that, instead telling him, “Just...try to let Sonny down easily, will you?”

Rafael grimaced and tossed back his drink in one gulp. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice rough. “But I make no guarantees.”  


* * *

 

Sonny poked his head into Rafael’s rehearsal space. “Hello?” he called, though of course there was no one there. Not at that hour, anyway.

Sonny was rarely an early riser, having spent far too much time over the past several years staying up til all hours at gigs or writing or whatever, but he had woken obscenely early that morning with a single line of music running through his head. It had taken him a moment to place it as a portion of one of Rafael’s original compositions, and it had taken even longer to realize that the reason it sounded so different was that in his head, it was being played on guitar.

That realization had brought with it the jolt that this might be the perfect way to fix the arrangement for one of SVU’s songs that they hadn’t yet figured out. And that had meant the end of any sleep that Sonny was going to get that night.

Instead, he quickly scribbled the basic notes and chords onto a blank sheet of music before checking his watch and sighing heavily. He was far too excited to show Rafael what he had come up with to even consider going back to sleep, but he was also too wired to stay cooped up in his apartment for three more hours.

Then he remembered that Rafael’s assistant manager had given him a copy of the key to his rehearsal space. “Just in case you need to access something,” Carmen had told him when she gave it to him, and Sonny whispered a quick prayer of thanks to God and maybe even St. Cecilia as he found the key and headed over to the concert hall.

He had planned on just waiting in Rafael’s rehearsal space until the man himself arrived, and then he would wow him with what he had come up with for the song, already imagining the grudging smile Rafael would give him, maybe even a word of backhanded praise.

He let that thought distract him for as long as it could, but not even the promise of Rafael’s smirk could distract him from the beautiful concert grand piano looming in the center of the room.

Between his songwriting and touring, it had been a long time since Sonny had played a piano, and never one so beautiful. Just being in the same room was making his fingers itch to settle on the ivories.

He hesitated, knowing that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking over and gently lifting the heavy black lid to reveal the pristine keys underneath. He ran his fingers almost reverently over the keys, the last remnants of black nail polish that he’d been too lazy to take off looking so out of place against the cream-colored keys.

Sonny glanced up at the clock, debating with himself. He had plenty of time before Rafael would normally show up and besides, if anyone would understand the call of the piano, surely it’d be Rafael.

So he sat, awkwardly, and cracked his knuckles before splaying his fingers over the keys and slowly, tentatively, beginning to play.

He started with a simple rendition of ‘Hey Jude’ just to work out the kinks before launching into something a little more complicated, an original piece by Barba himself that his piano teacher had made him memorize almost two decades ago now. Still, the notes were as familiar to him there as they had been sitting in a stuffy living room on Staten Island and plunking out the piece on a worn upright.

As his hands flew over the keys and he sang along with the gentle melody, he drifted into another world as he launched into another Barba original and then another and then—

“Who gave you permission to touch my piano?”

Sonny froze, his hands dropping off the keys as if he had been scalded, and he sheepishly turned to see the man himself standing in the doorway, anger clear in his tone. He could feel himself blush and he stood up as quickly as he could, almost tripping over the bench in the process. “Uh, Rafael, I—” He broke off at the look on Rafael’s face, something like cold fury in the lines of his face and the single eyebrow raised at Sonny’s audacity. “Mr. Barba, sorry I...I mean, sorry I, uh, surprised you. Carmen gave me a key.”

The excuse sounded weak even to him and he wasn’t surprised that Rafael’s expression didn’t change even as he stalked into the room, shouldering past Sonny to stand between him and the piano. “I see,” he said flatly, and Sonny’s blush deepened. “I assume that she told you that you could _wait_ for me here?”

Though Rafael’s voice was quiet, it was harsh, and Sonny flinched. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“And did she give you permission to touch my piano?” Rafael’s voice was still soft, but his eyes were dark with anger.

“Uh...no?”

Sonny hadn’t meant to pitch it like a question, but he felt like the floor had been swept out from underneath him and he had nothing to hold onto. Rafael ran a finger along the smooth top of the piano and took a step closer to Sonny. “Is there a particular reason why you felt the need to?”

The question was such a simple one but whether from the time Sonny had spent with Rafael or from the conversations he had imagined in his head, he read the anger and disappointment and something like resignation in Rafael’s tone, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing where this conversation was heading and not wanting it to reach there. “I just wanted to play,” he said quietly, hoping that a part of Rafael might identify with that sentiment. “I’m sorry.”

Rafael drew himself to his full height, and while he was several inches shorter than Sonny, he couldn’t help but feel that Rafael was towering over him, his expression cold and distant. “Get out.”

“But, this song—” Sonny burst, trying desperately to get to his actual reason for being there in the first place. “Before rehearsal today, I—”

“There’s not going to be a rehearsal today.” Rafael’s tone left no room for argument and Sonny faltered, wanting desperately to explain or apologize again, or something, but Rafael was clearly already done, settling down at the piano and pointedly ignoring Sonny except to tell him again, “Now get out.”

Sonny hesitated only a moment more before grabbing his stuff and practically jogging to the door. He refused to look back at Rafael, no matter how much he wanted to, but he couldn’t help but pause when he heard Rafael launch into a piece of music, every pounded note of Prokofiev’s Piano Sonata No. 7 hitting him like a gunshot to the heart.

Part of him hoped that Rafael would see just how upset and guilty Sonny was and find it in himself to forgive Sonny before whatever tentative friendship they had built between the two of them was broken beyond repair.

But the larger part of him knew that Rafael just didn’t care.


	6. Chapter 6

For the first canceled rehearsal, Sonny made up an excuse about Rafael being busy with something else for the orchestra, and the rest of the band bought it. By the time the fifth canceled rehearsal rolled around, Sonny’s excuses were running thin.

“What did you _do_?” Amanda asked, looking at Sonny with something like newfound respect.

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” Sonny shot back. “Besides, why would you assume it was me who did something?”

Amanda rolled her eyes, clearly ready with a comeback, but Mike cleared his throat and interjected before she could. “Well, even if you didn’t do anything, we do still have to rehearse. So maybe it’s time to go talk to him, see if you can smooth things over?”

Sonny wasn’t entirely convinced things could be smoothed over, as much as he desperately wanted them to. Part of him wished desperately that he could go back in time and have never touched Rafael’s stupid piano, but the logical part of him that wasn’t wallowing in heartbreak knew that whatever was going on with Rafael went far beyond Sonny’s inability to keep his hands to himself.

At least, he hoped that was the case, because otherwise he was head over heels for someone who was apparently in love with his piano.

He brought coffee, figuring the gesture couldn’t hurt and besides, it gave him an excuse for why he was lingering outside Rafael’s rehearsal space, waiting for the piano music inside to stop before he knocked tentatively on the door.

“Come in,” Rafael called, and Sonny took a deep breath. At least Rafael didn’t sound like he was in a bad mood, so Sonny took that as an encouraging sign.

He poked his head into the room and gave Rafael a nervous smile. “Hi,” he said, feeling stupid as soon as he said it and tried to cover it by crossing over to Rafael and holding out the cup of coffee expectantly. “This is for you.” Rafael just stared at him, his face blank, and Sonny felt his heart sink. Still, he was there now, and there was really no going back at this point. He set the coffee on the small table Rafael kept next to his piano  and took a deep breath, working up his courage. “Look, about the other day—”

“It’s fine.” Rafael said it coldly, dismissively, and Sonny flinched. He had hoped—

Well, it didn’t really matter what he had hoped now. “Obviously it’s not,” he said bluntly, and Rafael’s eyes flew up to his. “Listen, we still have to work together. So I was thinking that we could—”

Again, Rafael cut him off, this time with a sharp edge to his voice. “Actually, we don’t.”

Sonny’s reply was timid. “What?”

“We don’t have to work together anymore. We’re done.”

There was something almost flippant in his tone, and Sonny could feel himself falter. He had expected anger, or yelling, or something he knew how to deal with, but he hadn’t expected cold dismissal. Not from Rafael, not after all this time. He took another deep breath, trying to gather himself together to retake control of the conversation. “Hang on, let’s just take a step back here.”

Rafael ignored him. “My contribution to this arrangement is over—”

“But we still need to—”

“—and we’ll need to rehearse for the concert, but that won’t be for several months—”

“What about—”

“—and you can just send me the finished sheet music, I’ll do the orchestrations myself,” Rafael finished decisively, looking up at Sonny and for the first time reaching out to take a sip of the coffee that Sonny had brought him. “So if that’s all that you wanted, you can go.”

Sonny stared at him, at a complete loss of words. “So that’s it?” he asked hollowly. “I make the mistake of touching your piano and now it’s all over?”

Irritation flitted across Rafael face and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said dismissively.

“Me, being dramatic?” Sonny said incredulously. “I’m not the one trying to end what’s been a pretty successful partnership because I had the audacity to play your piano!”

“You had the audacity to presume this was something more than it was,” Rafael said icily. “This was a business relationship, nothing more, and my side of the arrangement has been fulfilled. So now if you’ll excuse me, I have an early dinner that I need to get to.”

Sonny felt like entire floor was falling away beneath him. “I — we’re not _done_ here,” he spluttered, tempted to reach out to steady himself against Rafael’s piano but thinking better of it.

“Yes, we are.” Rafael started gathering up the stray sheets of music from his piano, not sparing a second glance at Sonny, who felt himself flush even though something icy seemed to be gripping his chest.

“What, are you blowing me off for a hot date?” Sonny was aiming for a joke, for something, anything, to break the tension radiating between the two of them, but his voice sounded too small, too hurt, and for just a moment, he thought Rafael’s expression softened slightly.

But just as quickly as he thought it, the moment passed. “That’s really none of your business,” Rafael said coolly.

Sonny hesitated, wanting to say something more, but short of begging Rafael to stay, to talk to him, to not let what could have been here just wither and die, he wasn’t sure what he _could_ say. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. “Rafael,” he said, softly, and Rafael froze, though he didn’t look up at Sonny. “Please. Can’t we just—”

“No.” Rafael’s voice left no room for further discussion, and Sonny could practically feel himself shrink as Rafael’s expression shifted into a glare. “Goodbye, Sonny.”

And Sonny let himself be pushed out of the rehearsal space, unsurprised when Rafael practically slammed the door in his face. For a long moment, he just stared at the closed door, fighting back the instinct to pound on the door again, to demand that Rafael actually _talk_ to him, but then his shoulders slumped and he turned around and sighed.

“Excuse me, are you two done?” Sonny turned to see the violinist from the orchestra who had introduced the band around at the bar giving him a wicked smile, something knowing in her expression.

“Yeah,” he said hollowly. “Yeah, we’re done.”

Her brow furrowed for a brief moment and to his surprise, she reached up to pat him on the cheek before knocking firmly on the door to Rafael’s studio. Sonny watched as she let herself in and his heart clenched painfully when she greeted Rafael with a kiss on the cheek.

He turned away, unwilling or unable to watch anymore.

Sonny quickly made his way out of the building and into the bitter cold. His chest felt tight, and his breaths stuttered as he failed to breathe. He knew Rafael Barba showing _any_ sort of interest in him would be a long shot, but he at least thought they would wind up friends by the end of their time together.

Sonny cursed himself as he wound his way to the subway. Once he was comfortably seated he pulled a pen and a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and began to pour everything he was feeling onto the page. By the time he was done something wonderful was beginning to take shape and Sonny let himself smile for just a moment.

All he had to do now was put it to music.

* * *

 

Rafael hunched over on his bar stool, swirling his scotch without drinking it as Rita prattled on about one thing or another. Usually he could at least pretend to be interested in what Rita was telling him, but today for some reason he just couldn't be bothered. Well, not for some reason — he knew exactly why he was distracted, even if he refused to admit it to himself.

“Seriously Rafael?” Rita said finally, irritation in her voice, and Rafael startled upright, blinking in confusion at her.

“What?” he asked, defensively.

Rita frowned at him. “You’ve been ignoring me all evening.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and took a sip of scotch. “I have not,” he said dismissively, but Rita wasn’t buying it, just giving him a look.

“Then what was I just talking about?”

She had him there, and even though Rafael knew better than to try to pretend that he had been listening, he wasn’t going to just give her the satisfaction of admitting she had been right. “Uh, your violin?”

“I don't know why I bother,” Rita sighed, finishing her martini and waving the bartender over for another. Once she had another drink in hand, she propped her elbow on the bar and raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, what is the matter with you?”

Rafael contemplated taking another sip of scotch and chose instead to down it. “Nothing,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Rita’s lips pursed slightly. “Does it have to do with the handsome guitarist I ran into outside of your studio?”

Rafael sighed. “Rita—” he started warningly, but she ignored him.

“He looked absolutely distraught, so I hope you intend to apologize for whatever you said to upset him.” She took a sip of of her martini before searching Rafael’s face for a hint of what he was thinking and sighed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Rafael said a little defensively, and when Rita just looked at him, he sighed before adding tightly, “I just told him that our collaboration was over until we perform.”

Rita looked surprised. “Why?” she asked.

Rafael felt his ears burn as he muttered, “He was playing Catalina without my permission.” He chanced a look at Rita’s face and quickly looked away. “I may have overreacted.”

“I’ll say,” Rita murmured, something like resignation in her expression. She set her martini down and sighed. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Excuse me?” Rafael said, staring at her.

Rita waved a dismissive hand. “He was young, attractive, talented, and miracle of miracles, actually interested in you—”

“What?” Rafael asked, his entire face flushing.

“—not just your music,” Rita continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “And like you _always_ do, you sabotaged what could have been a good thing. And for absolutely no good reason.”

Rafael looked away. “I don’t date musicians,” he muttered, though the excuse sounded flimsier the more he said it.

Rita’s eyes narrowed. “And why don’t you?” she challenged. “Because once upon a time your heart was broken by a silly, jealous little girl? Rafael, I’m sorry, but it is _long_ since time you got past that.”

“Yelina wasn’t—” Rafael started automatically, still willing all these years later to defend her, but Rita cut him off.

“She _was_ , Rafael. She was jealous of you, she wanted what you had but she just didn’t have the talent. You kept getting bigger and as your fame grew, her control on you weakened.” Rafael shook his head but didn’t say anything, letting her continue, “I honestly don’t know why you continue to see her as this angel of music. She was a half-rate musician who couldn’t handle her boyfriend’s success and blamed her lack of talent on you.”

Rafael all but slammed his hand on the table, his fingers curling into a fist. “She’s a great musician,” he said, his voice quiet and dangerous.

Rita just arched an eyebrow at him. “She’s a good musician, but she will never be great, Rafael. Not like you were.”

“Were?” Rafael asked, attempting a sneer, but she just met his gaze easily.

“Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, you could be great again.” She paused before adding, “And you could probably start by actually making this collaboration as successful as you can.”

Rafael sighed and looked away. “I think it may be too late for that,” he muttered.

“You could try apologizing,” Rita suggested lightly.

“I don’t think I have anything to apologize for,” Rafael told her, and when Rita made to interject, he just shook his head and told her softly, “I’d only end up breaking his heart, Rita. This way is easier for both of us.”

Something in Rita’s expression softened. “Judging by the look on his face earlier today, you already broke his heart. So maybe consider whether the ‘easy’ way is the right way.”

Rafael snorted into his drink, not willing to dignify Rita’s comment with a response. He knew that throwing Sonny out of his rehearsal space may have been an overreaction, but it _would_ save him from further heartbreak in the future. Rafael continued to ignore Rita’s pointed looks and instead decided to drink himself into a stupor, if only to drown the small voice in the back of his head that was agreeing with Rita. He _had_ done the right thing.

At the very least, that’s what he was going to keep telling himself.

* * *

 

“Sonny,” Amanda said, loudly, as she sat down next to him, but Sonny ignored her, scribbling something in his notebook. “Carisi, are you with us?”

Sonny blinked up at her. “Huh?” he said.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “I know Mike’s been listening to _Hamilton_ non-stop for the past two years, but that’s not a reason for you to write like you’re running out of time.”

“Hey, I haven’t been listening to it _that_ often,” Mike said defensively. “And besides, there’s nothing wrong with listening to musical soundtracks.”

Nick clapped Mike on the shoulder. “Just as long as you don’t decide to abandon us to go perform on Broadway.”

Mike rolled his eyes but Amanda cut off any further squabbling by nudging Sonny companionably with her shoulder. “Barba’s an asshole,” she said bluntly. “But it’s been weeks, sweetheart. Time to pull yourself out of this funk.”

“Or at least, finish channeling your pain into writing songs for our next album and _then_ pull yourself out of this funk,” Mike said, but his smile was gentle and he was clearly joking.

Sonny forced a smile. “I appreciate the support, guys,” he told them. “I’m ok, really. And luckily, it’s given me plenty of material to work with.”

Nick didn’t look convinced. “Listen, I don’t care if it’s been weeks, if you need us to go after the prick, just say the word and—”

“I’m fine, Nick,” Sonny interrupted, knowing far too well that Nick wasn’t quite joking. “Honestly. I’m fine.”

Mike clapped him on the shoulder and told him bracingly, “If nothing else, these are some of the best songs that you’ve written. Seriously. I can’t wait to get behind a microphone and start singing them.”

Sonny shrugged, feeling uncomfortable at the praise. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “They’re average at best.”

“I have to agree with Dodds, actually,” Olivia said, striding into the rehearsal space and giving Sonny a smile. “Nice work, Sonny. By my estimation, we have more than enough material to start recording a new album, and if you spend enough time in the studio over the next few weeks, we may even be able to drop the first single before the collaboration concert.”

“See, Sonny?” Amanda smiled and nudged him again. “This whole fiasco produced something brilliant, and we get to go back to doing what we love: playing our own music and avoiding elitist snobs.”

Sonny smiled at her and nodded as the band started talking excitedly about getting back into the studio, the smile plastered across his face concealing the heaviness in his heart. As much as he loved playing with the band, as much as he wouldn’t give it up for anything, there was something liberating about playing and discussing classical music with Barba.

But since that was highly unlikely to ever happen again, he put it from his mind and focused on his band and the music that he had left.


	7. Chapter 7

For as long as Rafael could remember, playing piano had always been the easiest thing in his life, as natural as breathing. He could sit in front of a piano and lift his fingers onto the keys and the notes would seemingly tumble out in perfect harmony.

Now, Rafael felt disjointed.

For the past few weeks of rehearsals with the orchestras, his precious baby grand had felt foreign beneath his fingers, every note dissonant and the noise from the other musicians even more so. Where once he would have easily kept pace with the conductor, now every wave of the baton felt out of rhythm and too aggressive.

As loath as Rafael was to admit it, since Sonny had stopped working with him, work had felt — well, it felt like work.

The last time Rafael had felt so disconnected from his music, he had been limping through the last semesters at Juilliard while trying to recover from a broken heart. Not that his heart was broken right now. And even if it was — which it _wasn’t_ — he had done it to himself.

But even his tried and true method of coping from his Juilliard days, locking himself in his rehearsal space and spending a week playing non-stop, seemed to have little effect. And after the escalating passive aggressive voicemails from Tucker and Alex detailing exactly what would happen to him if he didn’t head into work, he was forced to return to orchestra rehearsals feeling worse for wear.

Rita was the only member of the orchestra to greet him, a cup of coffee in hand and a look of pity in her eye. “Did you apologize yet?” she asked for only the nineteenth time since their conversation in the bar.

Rafael didn’t dignify it with an answer, merely giving her a tight smile as he plucked the coffee from her hand, enjoying the bitter taste as he sipped from the cup.

He nodded to his colleagues as he made his way over to the rehearsal piano. Some sheet music lay on top of it, and Rafael took another sip of coffee as he flipped through it. It wasn’t anything anything he hadn’t seen before, and he was about to set it back down when he noticed the names across the top, his heart giving an almost painful jump in his chest.

_Music by Rafael Barba & Dominick Carisi Jr. _

His movements became almost trance-like as he placed his coffee cup on the floor next to the piano bench before setting the music on the stand and carefully, tentatively beginning to play. The melody was softer than he expected at first, though the mood quickly shifted and became more jagged. As the notes became more complicated, Rafael couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity with the piece. He couldn’t remember working on anything like this with Sonny, but as the piece built to a crescendo, Rafael felt more alive than he had in weeks.

As he reached the end of the piece, something stirred in his heart. The music had again softened, decrescendoing from anger into sadness, full of pain and longing for something he wished he had but would never quite reach.

For Yelina.

Rafael’s heart stopped for a moment, and he fumbled against the keys, hitting a rare incorrect note. The entire orchestra swiveled to stare at him as he swore. He flipped back to the start of the music, the familiar notes leaping out at him as he finally realized the last time he had heard this piece.

This was what Sonny had been playing the day Rafael threw him out, the love song turned heartbreaking sonata that he had written about Yelina.

Rafael could feel a red flush creeping up the back of his neck. How had he not realized sooner? He knew Sonny was a fan of his — the younger man had made no secret of it — but Rafael rarely played this piece. How had Sonny even known it had existed?

How had Sonny understood him so much better than Rafael would ever admit?

As the orchestra started the piece from the top, he could better hear the changes that Sonny had made, the small moments built into Rafael’s sadness and anger. His adaptation built on all those initial feelings, but added a key feeling the original had been missing: hope.

For one moment, Rafael felt something like the same anger he’d felt that day seeing Sonny play his piano flicker in him, anger that Sonny had felt like he could change Rafael’s grief and fury into something. But as he played, as he listened to the pieces of Sonny layered throughout the music, his anger faded. Sonny had accomplished what no one else, not even Yelina, had ever been able to: he had a found a way to fit himself into Rafael’s music, and in doing so, into Rafael’s heart.

As Rafael played, he couldn’t help but feel unbearably sad that he had never noticed it before.

And now it was too late.

* * *

 

“I’d say ‘penny for your thoughts’, but I’m not sure they’re worth that much.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and drained his scotch before turning to look up at Rita with baleful eyes. “Do we really have to do this every time?” he asked with a sigh.

Rita raised an eyebrow at him as she sat down next to him. “That depends. Are you ready to finally put an end to your two months of moping? Or are you still planning on drinking your sorrows away and doing nothing to actually make things better?”

“What exactly would you have me do?” Rafael sniped, gesturing to the bartender for another drink. “How, precisely, do you want me to make this better?”

If possible, Rita’s eyebrow inched even higher up her forehead as she sarcastically ticked things off on her fingers. “Let’s see, as far as things I’ve suggested go, you could start by admitting that you’re in love with Sonny, that you want to be with Sonny, that you need to apologize to Sonny, and then actually do apologize to Sonny instead of sitting here and drinking like an ass.”

Rafael winced at the bluntness of her tone. “Wow, Rita, don’t hold back or anything,” he muttered.

Rita gave him a look. “Look, I enjoy drama as much as anyone, and this whole thing was cute at first, but now it’s just pathetic. And I’m not going to keep enabling you, not even for my own amusement.” She paused and Rafael took the silence as an opportunity to slam his scotch and order another. “So are you ready to actually do something about this?”

Shrugging, Rafael looked away. “Even if I had feelings for Sonny,” he started, but Rita interrupted.

“You do,” she said calmly, taking a sip of her martini. “But we can always circle back to that later.”

Rafael glared at her. “Even _if_ ,” he started again, emphasizing the ‘if’ as much as he could, “I had feelings for Sonny, that doesn’t change anything that happened between him and I.” His expression twisted. “He would never want to be with a cruel old man who verbally destroyed him.”

Rita’s expression didn’t change. “You’re not old, Rafael,” she told him. “I’ll give you cruel, though. Because you were. But I think you’re vastly underestimating Sonny’s capacity for forgiveness.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know him,” he said dismissively.

“I know enough,” Rita said. “I know that he looked at you the way that you used to look at Yelina, and you’re living proof that it takes an awful lot to make someone stop feeling that way.”

“Leave her out of this,” Rafael snapped, though without much real heat, and it was Rita’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Why should I?” she asked. “Doesn’t it always come back to her, in the end?”

“No.” Rafael’s voice was firm, his tone final, and Rita blinked in surprise. Rafael hesitated for a moment before admitting, softly, “It hasn’t really been about Yelina for a long time.”

It was the first time he had actually said the words out loud, the first time he had admitted to another person what he had realized far too late for it to matter, and Rita’s eyes widened for a moment, though she hid her surprise by draining her martini. “Then what has it really been about?”

Rafael shrugged. “Fear,” he said simply, finding it easier to admit than he thought it would be, and not just because the scotch had loosened his tongue. Then again, Rita probably knew him best, probably knew all this without him having to say anything if the look of slight satisfaction on her face meant anything. “Fear of letting anyone else in.”

“Huh,” Rita said mildly. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you’d actually admit that.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Not that it matters,” he said dismissively. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe not yet,” Rita acknowledged, ordering them both another drink, and when the bartender set the drinks in front of them, she raised her martini glass for a toast. “But it’s a start.”

Though Rafael rolled his eyes again, he nonetheless obediently clinked his glass against Rita’s. “I guess it is.”

Rita smiled at him. “Excellent,” she said, her tone turning brisk. “Now that we’ve gotten you to admit the hard part, let’s start figuring out how to fix this.”

And Rafael just groaned.

* * *

 

Despite Rita’s best efforts, Rafael hadn’t actually taken the next step in reaching out to Sonny, for a variety of reasons, some more valid than others, including the tabloid spread of Sonny hugging some girl which had been picked up by LMZ and subsequently flooded the internet.

_See?_ he had texted Rita, with a link to the article. _He’s already moved on_.

_You’re an idiot_ , had been her succinct reply. _Also why are you reading LMZ? I know you have no life, Raf, but that’s a new low even for you._

He hadn’t dignified that with a response. Mainly because he didn’t have a good reason for checking a celebrity gossip site.

But he also didn’t want to tell her the real reason why he hadn’t reached out to Sonny, hadn’t tried apologizing. He remembered all too well the look on Sonny’s face when he had kicked him out of his rehearsal space, and again when he had told him that they were done. He could hear his own voice telling him, _“You had the audacity to presume this was something more than it was”_ and could see the naked hurt on Sonny’s face as each and every one of those words cut him into pieces.

Sonny could never want him after that.

No one could.

When Rita called him not too long after that, Rafael almost didn’t answer his phone, not wanting to hear her latest lecture. After four rings, though, he finally picked up. “What?” he asked.

She didn’t even comment on his attitude, something urgent in her tone. “Turn your radio to 104.7 FM.”

“Rita—” Rafael sighed, but she cut him off.

“Just do it!”

Though Rafael groaned and rolled his eyes, he nonetheless reached over to turn his radio on and to the correct station. “Happy now?” he grumbled into the phone, but Rita had already hung up, apparently satisfied that he had actually obeyed her command.

He was tempted to turn the radio off again, but at the sound of a familiar Staten Island accent, he froze, the breath catching in his throat. “—really happy with how it turned out,” Sonny was saying, with his usual enthusiasm, and Rafael closed his eyes, frankly embarrassed at how good it felt just to hear his voice again.

“Is there a reason SVU chose to release this song in particular for your first single off your next album?” the radio host asked.

Sonny took a moment to answer. “Secret Vicious Unknown has always tried to do something different with each of our albums, to push the boundaries, and with our recent collaboration with the Hudson Concert Orchestra, we were really able to explore new sounds.”

Something had changed slightly in his tone when he said ‘Hudson Concert Orchestra’, but the radio host didn’t notice it. Or else Rafael was imagining it. “This new sound definitely comes across not just in this single, but in the entire album. It’s darker than your usual sound. This single has also become one of your fastest selling, and pre-sales for your album are through the roof. Why do you think that is?”

“It’s about heartbreak.” Sonny’s voice became strained and Rafael closed his eyes at the sound of it. “It’s something we’ve all experienced. It’s about losing something that could’ve been really good and never really knowing what it had the potential to become. It’s universal, so I think that’s why people are really responding to that.”

“Were you writing about this heartbreak from personal experience?” the host asked shrewdly, and Rafael’s heart clenched painfully at the thought of Sonny saying anything about what had happened between them.

But Sonny just huffed a dry laugh. “No comment,” he said.

“Well, thank you for being here, Sonny,” the host said. “That was Sonny Carisi of Secret Vicious Unknown, and here once more is SVU’s latest single, ‘Unfinished Duet’.”

As the opening chords swelled over the radio, Rafael was more relieved than words could express that Rita was not still on the phone with him, and even moreso wasn’t standing next to him to see the look on his face. She would never have let him hear the end of it.

Still, his heart gave a painful lurch as the song started, and he was so thrown by the sound of Mike Dodds singing that he completely forgot to pay attention to the first verse. It was stupid — he knew that Mike was SVU’s lead singer, and so he should’ve expected it, but he had instead been expecting to hear Sonny’s voice.

Then again, they were Sonny’s words, and that was the important thing.

He closed his eyes as the chorus crashed over him, feeling Sonny’s heartbreak in every word, in every chord from the guitar:

_"I'll be the song stuck in your head_   
_The melody you'll never forget_   
_Til these words are a scar on your heart_   
_I'm one half of an unfinished duet_   
_You had me from the very first note_   
_And til the day I die my biggest regret_   
_Is you'll never know this song is for you_ _  
The other half of an unfinished duet"_

The words weren’t what Rafael had expected. He had expected and even prepared for anger, for the usual punk screaming that seemed to accompany SVU’s songs. But this was different, softer, sadder; this was heartbreak. This was what Rafael had tried to write for Yelina, only summed up so much neater than his meandering, overwrought sonata had been.

Sonny was so much more talented than Rafael had been willing to give him credit for.

_"And the worst is knowing what we could’ve been_   
_Worse still that we're no longer friends_   
_You called it quits before we could even begin_ _  
There's a hole in my heart I don't know how to mend"_

From the bridge, the song launched into a guitar riff, and more even than the words, the music caused Rafael to pause, to stare at the radio. As differently as they may sound when played on a guitar, he would recognize his own music anywhere.

Again, the breath caught in his throat at the sudden, stunning realization that Sonny must have spent so much time with Rafael’s music to be able to call back to it here, and his chest felt tight with emotion.

After the song ended, Rafael sat in silence for a long moment. Then he grabbed his phone and sent a text to Rita: _I think you were right._

_I’m screenshotting that_ , she told him, before sending a second text. _What are you going to do now?_

Rafael didn’t even hesitate. _Finish what I started._


	8. Chapter 8

Sonny stared up at the imposing facade of Hudson Concert Hall, feeling something like longing tug in his chest. He had always associated the building with some of his fondest memories, including where he first saw the great Rafael Barba play, but it was overshadowed now by the memory of the man breaking his heart.

Still, there was a certain amount of excitement coursing through his veins. He had spent his youth dreaming of playing music on the hall’s grand stage, and soon he'd be getting the chance to live his dream. Granted, it’d be with hair soon to be dyed black again, and painted fingernails plucking chords from a guitar rather than playing a piano like he had once dreamed, but still. He’d be onstage with his band, and even the lingering pain that squeezed his chest when he thought of Rafael couldn’t quite dim his excitement.

Besides which, Rafael was supposed to be the last thing on his mind. After their fight, he had thrown himself into recording and promoting SVU’s newest album. After the album was recorded, he had made sure that Fin had booked him back to back interviews with various radio stations and magazines, just to give him something to fill his day. Sonny didn’t want to think about anything other than the album and the music. He certainly didn’t want to leave any opening for Rafael Barba to creep back into his head.

Sonny tore his eyes away from the building and glanced down at the printed email in his hand, printed only so that he could jot a couple of ideas on it. Carmen had forwarded the email from Alex advising that there were some last minute arrangement changes that the director wanted to run by him and assumedly Rafael, though there was no mention of the pianist in the email.

Which was good, because Sonny didn’t think he was ready to see Rafael again.

He shook his head and took a deep breath before finally forcing himself to enter the building, his Converse sneakers echoing through the empty entrance hall. It was evening, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be there, but it still felt weird to wander through the empty hallway into the Concert Hall.

The auditorium was empty save for the orchestra chairs arranged across the stage, and Sonny frowned, glancing back down at the email to verify that he was supposed to be meeting the director here. “Hello?” he called, heading toward the stage. “Anyone here?”

There was no answer.

Maybe he had gotten the time or day wrong. Sonny glanced around and shrugged, about to give up and call it a night when he heard the soft strains of piano music.

Sonny froze. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, standing there on the stage where he first laid eyes on Rafael Barba. But then he took a tentative step through the stage door into the hallway leading to the rehearsal rooms, and the piano grew louder.

Against his better judgment, he found himself drawn towards the sound, surprised when his feet led him past both Rafael’s rehearsal space and the room the band had once used. As he drew closer to the sound, his heart hammered against his ribcage, and the echoing piano notes morphed into something more familiar.

He paused at the door of an unfamiliar rehearsal room, the sounds of the piano wafting through the wood. He gripped the door handle and took a deep breath before finally turning it and pushing the door open.

A familiar figure was hunched over an old upright piano in the corner of the room, but the sight of Rafael wasn’t what made Sonny’s heart clench. Instead, it was the notes that floated through the air, haunting and heartbreaking and immediately recognizable. Rafael was playing Sonny’s song — he was playing _their_ song.

Sonny felt himself go red, and he would’ve turned to go had Rafael not looked up at that moment, green eyes locking on blue.

And then, he began to sing.

Rafael wasn’t a singer, he didn’t have the greatest voice, but Sonny knew in that moment the song was spoiled for him. It would never sound as good coming from any other lips.

 _“You are the song stuck in my head_   
_The melody I’ll never forget_   
_Til these words are a scar on my heart_   
_I'm one half of an unfinished duet_   
_You had me from the very first note_   
_And til the day I die my biggest regret_   
_Is that you may never know, that you are  
The other half of my unfinished duet_ ”

Rafael had changed the words. Rafael had listened to the song that Sonny had written for him, had known that it was for him, and had changed the words so that he could sing it for Sonny.

Sonny didn’t think his heart had ever been this full.

When Rafael finally finished singing, he looked up at Sonny with a pleading look in his eyes, and Sonny took a tentative step forward, unable to keep his voice from shaking slightly as he said, as neutrally as he could manage, “I see you heard our song.”

“I did.” Rafael’s voice was soft and serious, but there was a something of his usual smirk on his face when he added, “I thought it was a little weird to hear Mike singing me a love song, but…”

Sonny couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Rafael’s attempt at snark. “You’re gonna have to actually say it, you know.”

Rafael frowned at him. “Say what?”

“You’re gonna have to actually say the words ‘I’m sorry’.”

Rafael made a face like the thought physically pained him, though he did manage to say, “I am. Sorry, that is.”

But Sonny wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he looked evenly at Rafael. “For what?”

“For everything.” The pained look had disappeared from Rafael’s face, replaced by something earnest, with just an edge of desperate, and Rafael stood from the piano and slowly made his way towards Sonny. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, and for throwing you out of my rehearsal space and above all for making you think that I didn’t care.”

Sonny’s mouth went dry but before he could say anything, Rafael continued, “I’ve been trying to find a way to say that for months now — pretty much since the day of our fight. And I’m sorry most of all that it’s taken me this long. But it wasn’t until I heard your song that I knew what to say.” He took another step towards Sonny. “I heard that song, and it was missing something, just like my life was missing something.”

And then he was standing in front of Sonny, green eyes once again meeting blue. “I don’t want this — our duet, for lack of a better term, and Jesus Christ, Sonny, for being a punk rocker, you sure picked something remarkably cheesy to compare this to—” Sonny huffed a laugh but didn’t interrupt, waiting for Rafael to finally get to his point, to finally say it. “—I don’t want this to be over. And anyway, what I’m trying to say is—”

Sonny was tired of waiting for Rafael.

So he surged forward and captured Rafael’s mouth with his own.

For a brief moment, Rafael froze, and Sonny almost pulled away, afraid he had misinterpreted everything. But then Rafael melted into him, returning the kiss with all the heat and enthusiasm that Sonny had barely hoped for in his wildest dreams.

Then, just as quickly as they had started, Rafael pulled away, his brow furrowed. “You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, though a wicked smirk flashed across his features. “I spent an entire week planning this and you—”

Once again, Sonny didn’t let him finish, cutting him off with another searing kiss before pulling away just far enough to ask, a little hoarsely, “What about your violinist?”

He had been unable to get the image of Rita kissing Barba’s cheek with all the familiarity he had longed to have out his head for the past several months. Rafael cocked a single eyebrow at him. “What about her?”

“You’re not seeing her?” Sonny pressed, unable to stop his smile when Rafael burst into laughter. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

Rafael shook his head. “God, no.” His smile faded slightly. “What about the girl you were caught with by that tabloid? Miss 34B? Is she still in the picture?”

Sonny could feel his face scrunch up in disgust. “That was my sister Gina.”

This time, they both laughed, but it was gentler now, softer, and Rafael reached up to cup Sonny’s cheek with one of his large hands, his long fingers caressing his cheek the way they normally caressed the keys, and Sonny half-closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch. “I’m sorry,” Rafael repeated.

“I know,” Sonny murmured, because he did. And though a stubborn part of him knew he shouldn’t be nearly this forgiving, having Rafael in his arms was everything he had ever wanted, and it was difficult to not forgive the man. “Amanda’s gonna kill you, you know.”

Rafael let out a startled laugh before sighing, mock-dramatically. “I would like you a lot better if you didn’t come with a parcel of musical misfits.”

“And I’d like you a lot better if you weren’t such a snob,” Sonny countered.

But Rafael just grinned. “Liar,” he whispered before kissing Sonny once more.

And as Sonny kissed him back, he couldn’t help but think of all the incredible music that was going to come from this.

* * *

 

The mood in Rafael’s rehearsal space was downright festive as everyone was coming down from the adrenaline rush of their first concert together. Carmen had thoughtfully brought out Rafael’s entire supply of alcohol, and the drinks were flowing as SVU and the orchestra relaxed together.

Rafael couldn’t seem to stop smiling, not even caring that he was drinking scotch out of a red plastic cup, mainly because he was sitting on his piano bench with Sonny next to him, their thighs pressed together. They kept exchanging glances and smiles, seemingly oblivious to everyone else in the room. “Make me puke,” Amanda muttered to Mike, who just laughed and shook his head.

“We need music — play something for us, Rafael!” Rita called, taking another sip of vodka. “We all know you’re dying to!”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Like I’d waste Catalina on a bunch of drunks,” he said dismissively.

Sonny nudged him, grinning. “You named your piano? You know you’re a giant nerd, right?”

Rafael scowled at him before turning back to Rita. “Sonny can play something, though. Isn’t that right, Sonny?”

He said the words mildly enough, but Sonny just stared at him, wide-eyed, obviously remembering the last time he had played Rafael’s piano and clearly worried that this was a trap. Rafael let him stew for a moment before adding, “You have my permission to play something.”

Sonny visibly relaxed and turned to the keys, though he hesitated for a long moment. Then, without warning, he grinned again and lifted his hands to the keys, plunking out the bass part to the opening of “Heart and Soul.” Rafael groaned and gave him a look. “Permission revoked,” he said, but Sonny didn’t stop playing, instead giving Rafael his best puppy dog eyes, and after a moment, Rafael huffed a sigh and started playing the other part of the song.

Of course, he couldn’t help but put his own spin on it, but he was gratified to find that Sonny was capable of keeping up with him, matching him with variations of his own, and Rafael was again struck by the fact that Sonny fit so perfectly here with him, squeezed onto the piano bench, his black fingernails moving as naturally over the keys as Rafael’s own.

And he couldn’t help himself — he broke off playing to kiss Sonny, tugging him down and licking into his mouth, forgetting and honestly not caring that they were surrounded by people watching them.

There was a moment of silence before the room exploded into applause and more than a few people muttering, “Finally” simultaneously. Rafael and Sonny ignored all of them in favor of continuing their kiss, and Rita rolled her eyes as she turned to Olivia. “God, they’re going to be insufferable,” she muttered.

Olivia shrugged, her own smile soft. “Better insufferable than miserable.”

Rita considered it for a moment. “You’re not wrong there.” She drained her vodka. “Forlini’s?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Everyone seemed to take Rafael and Sonny’s impromptu makeout session as the sign that they should adjourn for the evening, and as Amanda and Nick traipsed into the hallway, she told him, the threat clear in her tone, “I swear to God, if our next album ends up being all sappy love songs—”

“What if your next album is a recording of your collaboration?” Alex asked, joining them in the hallway, Fin in tow. Both looked immensely satisfied. “We just got the initial reviews back...and the collaboration is a hit!”

Fin nodded. “We may even have to add more concert dates,” he said.

Alex looked around at the departing musicians. “Where are our two stars so that I can thank them for all their hard work?”

Olivia took Alex’s arm and steered her away from Rafael’s rehearsal space. “Thank them later,” she advised. “Come with us to Forlini’s. You can even buy the first round.”

Back in the practice room, Rafael and Sonny resurfaced for air, Rafael’s tie completely missing and his shirt half-unbuttoned, while Sonny’s recently-dyed hair was sticking out in all directions. “Hang on,” Sonny said, looking around. “Where’d everyone go?”

As if on cue, Rafael’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it. “It’s from Rita,” he said, before reading out loud, “When you two are done sucking face, there are tequila shots with your names on them waiting for you at Forlini’s.”

“Tequila shots?” Sonny questioned.

Rafael snorted and set his phone back down. “Our go-to celebratory drink from Juilliard,” he said.

Sonny laughed. “So I guess we should go,” he said, reluctantly, and started to stand, but Rafael grabbed him and pulled him back down.

“We should,” he agreed, giving Sonny a predatory smile. “Eventually, anyway. But right now…” He reached up to tangle his hand in Sonny’s hair and pull him in for another kiss.

And when Sonny accidentally hit a sour chord on the piano with his elbow, Rafael didn’t even notice.

* * *

 

 **Classical Punk Collaboration Success  
** **_Declan Murphy - Rolling Stone Magazine_ **

_The audience stomped their feet and the crowd roared. For the first time in Hudson Concert Hall’s prestigious history, punk and classical music combined, and never has there been quite a performance. Secret Vicious Unknown took to the stage to the screams of adoring fans but the true surprise was Rafael Barba’s haunting contributions to the songs. The unique collaboration may influence the industry for years to come._

 

 **Extension of Collaboration Concerts  
** **_Casey Novack - Hudson Alumni Journal_ **

_Hudson Concert Hall is delighted to announce that its Orchestra’s collaboration with Secret Vicious Unknown will be extended for another week. The chemistry between Hudson’s own Rafael Barba and Secret Vicious Unknown’s guitarist Sonny Carisi is an unexpected delight… if you haven't already seen this exciting collaboration take advantage of the Alumni advanced sale. Tickets go on sale to Alumni on Monday…_

 

 **Vicious Unknown Songwriter’s Secret  
** **_Lenny Simmons - LMZ Magazine_ **

_Secret Vicious Unknown’s Guitarist and Songwriter Sonny Carisi may be harboring some secrets of his own! Sonny was spotted on private beachfront property with none other than classical pianist and certified hottie Rafael Barba, and witnesses said they were making a whole lot more than sweet music together. See page 12 for the salacious photos._

 

 **Surprise Proposal Brings Sweet End to Concert  
** **_Melinda Warner - Classist News_ **

_World-famous pianist Rafael Barba has a history of cutting concerts short, but his most recent concert ended early for the best possible reason. After being joined onstage by members of the punk group Secret Vicious Unknown, with whom Mr. Barba has collaborated in the past, Mr. Barba stopped mid-song to get down on one knee and propose to SVU guitarist and songwriter Sonny Carisi. “You completed a duet I never knew I was playing alone,” Mr. Barba is reported to have said before asking Mr. Carisi to marry him. The two are reported to be planning a June wedding._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both fic writers would like to take a moment to thank everyone who's read and supported this fic — we've had loads of fun writing it and exploring this world, and we're so grateful that you all were willing to come along on this journey with us. This was our first collaboration, but we're both fairly certain it won't be our last!!
> 
> Special thanks to AHumanFemale for acting as a beta on this final chapter.
> 
> Be sure to check out [this incredible graphic](http://summermint.tumblr.com/post/164449989242/ahumanfemale-asked-me-if-i-could-surprise) made for this fic by the wonderful [summermint](http://summermint.tumblr.com/)!!!


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